Best of my love
by MichaellaD
Summary: Jane's done some bad things, often to Lisbon. But he usually manages to pull it out of the fire at the last minute... (Title from the Eagles song.)
1. Always on my mind

**A/N: Here we are - more short stories based on a song. (Does this technique have a name?) The song is Always On My Mind by Willie Nelson. I do not own it or the Mentalist.**

**I did not post this with my other one because they don't really fit together. At all. You'll see what I mean when you start reading.**

**I strongly recommend you have a fairly good knowledge of the Mentalist before you read this. A lot of the snapshots are from actual episodes, but I didn't bother to specify what's happening when. It broke up the flow. And they're not in chronological order. So you have to figure it out yourself. (Hint: The first two are made up.)**

**Warning: Jane is a jerk here.**

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><p>They're lying in bed. He thinks this is the closest to heaven he'll ever be.<p>

He looks down at the angel in his arms. Why can't he shut off his brain for two minutes and forget everything he's done...

_Maybe I didn't love you_  
><em>Quite as often as I could have<em>

She's having a bad day. He can tell because her left shoulder is fractionally higher than her right. Normally this is his cue.

But his day hasn't been the best either. He's mad because she just threw him with Rigsby to go interview a suspect that has nothing to do with the case. He's told her this. And she ignored him. Because she's having a bad day.

But he's having a bad day too.

So, at the "suspect's" house, he tells the wife that her husband is seeing a woman every Wednesday. Omits the fact that it's the anger management counselor she's been begging him to visit. When she confronts her husband, he smashes 5 plates before Rigsby can subdue him.

The wife is a prominent doctor. He knows when they get back Lisbon'll have a headache. Good.

He's wrong. It takes him about one second to realize that she actually has a migraine. He goes for a cup of tea. She's hidden (or drunk) all the cream on him. He sits back down on his couch, grinning to hide how grumpy he's feeling. Any sympathy he had has vanished.

It's like a darn merry-go-round.

He feels just slightly sorry when he sees Lisbon close her eyes against whoever's yelling at her on the phone. He'd known she was having a bad day. And she has enough to deal with controlling him.

But he just lies down on the couch. Surely she can work through one bad day without him.

_And maybe I didn't treat you_  
><em>Quite as good as I should have<em>

He's feeling sick. This one was personal. And Red John got away again. He's playing with him, like a cat and a laser pointer.

Insignificant worm. (Is that him or Red John?)

He needs time to think, figure out where to go from here.

Lisbon is pale, sitting in the car. An officer she knew was killed in the shootout resulting from his scheme. He looks over at her. She'll be able to get over it. He ambles over, insists they need to get back to the CBI right away. He wants to get back to his attic. Can't do any thinking here.

She's mad. Good. It'll distract her. He spares her a closer glance. Yes. She'll be fine. Eventually. At least right now she's good enough to drive, that's the main thing. He settles back in his seat, closes his eyes.

He doesn't spare her another thought thoughout the whole 8-hour drive. He doesn't notice that she's gripping the steering wheel in a way that shows that she's fighting back tears. (Are they for him or her friend?)

It doesn't matter; he wouldn't have cared either way.

_If I made you feel second best_  
><em>Girl, I'm sorry I was blind<em>

He can't understand why she's so upset about Lorelei. Of course she couldn't know they'd slept together. The whole point was to win Lorelei's trust. Obviously he doesn't _care_ for her.

Women and their unreasonable jealousy. He's almost impressed when she bugs the interrogation room. Not that it does her any good. It's her own fault that now she knows he kissed her. If she didn't want to know, she should have just kept her promise.

She doesn't understand that getting Red John is more important than making her feel good. He's disgusted. He thought she was a better cop than that. She'll come to her senses soon enough. Until then, he needs to think. He doesn't have time to soothe her like a parent with a toddler. He needs her sharp. She'll be doing the legwork, after all, when his new plan crystallizes. She's shouting at him; he doesn't even hear her.

He leaves her standing in the middle of the floor. She looks so forlorn, somehow all alone in the bustling office. But he's gone by this point, doesn't spare her a second glance.

_You were always on my mind_  
><em>You were always on my mind<em>

He jerks to the side; his chair falls over. If he were coherent at his point, he would be laughing at himself.

But he's wrapped up, and his mind is paralysed with fear. He doesn't like this. His mind is his only weapon. And now Red John is _right there_, and he can't think of a thing to say.

He's screaming Lisbon's name in his mind. His heart is about to explode. He wants her to burst in here and shoot Red John. He wants her to untie him and call him an idiot for getting himself into this mess.

When Lisbon actually does come, he's regained his sanity. It's _his_ job, killing Red John. He would never willingly let her do the deed. It's strange the delusions a tortured mind will come up with.

But he's scared of what his instinctual reaction had revealed. So he can't bring himself to tell Lisbon the new lead he got. He needs to distance himself, regain his focus. He can't believe his wife and daughter hadn't been on his mind at all when he thought he was going to die. If such a thing were possible, he hates himself a little more. He goes back to his house, lies down on his matress. Don't get distracted, he reminds himself.

Unbidden, the memory of how grateful he was to see Lisbon rises to the fore. He pushes it down, locks it away. He doesn't have time for this now.

But maybe, just maybe, sometime later...

_And maybe I didn't hold you_  
><em>All those lonely, lonely times<em>

He feels bad. She was crying. He's pretty sure Bosco confessed to loving her.

He goes in himself for a few minutes.

Bosco's dead. She comes over, stands beside him. He admires how well she hides her trembling.

Bosco has just told him to take care of her. He has to agree that no one else does, not really. Even though _someone_ should. She's only human, after all. It's surprising how often he forgets that.

If he just put an arm around her, it would help her so much. She really needs some love right now, some comfort from a close friend.

He'll never understand why he doesn't do it.

_And I guess I never told you_  
><em>I'm so happy that you're mine<em>

They're standing on the beach watching the sunset. He looks at her. This is going to be so easy. He can almost hear his dad teaching him to play poker: 'Always have an ace in the hole, son.'

Well, this one's a doozy. He's never let on about his feelings before. She'll know he's telling the truth. She'll be so surprised... she won't know what to do.

Yup, just like he thought. Now a hug (might as well enjoy this part of it, it's the last gentle human contact you'll ever feel, he thinks), just to pick her pocket.

Her anger makes it easier to drive down the highway. She's a fighter. If they weren't so isolated, he'd be worried that she'd catch up with him. It hurts just a little bit that now she'll think he was lying.

He can't bear to watch her in the rearview mirror. Refuses to wonder why.

_Little things I should have said and done_  
><em>I just never took the time<em>

Lisbon tries to calm herself down. Jane has disappeared again. She doesn't even want to think about what he's probably doing right now.

Why couldn't he take two minutes and call her, just tell her where he is? She could contain the worst of his schemes. They'd still work, and her head wouldn't be on the chopping block.

Why can't she make him understand that when it comes to him, there's no such thing as plausible deniability. Whatever he does, she's going to take the fall for it. Whether she knew about it or not.

She closes her eyes, picks up her phone yet again, dials his number once more. Silently begs him not to do this to her again. Please, just this one time...

It goes straight to voicemail.

_But you were always on my mind_  
><em>You were always on my mind<em>

He's resigned to the fact he's going to die here. Really, he is.

There's no way he can go back to the States. No way to see _her_ again. Deep down, he wonders if prison is so bad, if he could just know that she'd visit. He shakes the thought out of his head. He needs to forget her. He doesn't want to think about the mess he knows he made of her life.

He knows it'll be ridiculously easy to forget about her. He just needs to ignore everything that reminds him of her. So, that would be the brunette waitress, uh, the children running around, and, well, sunsets, coffee, handcuffs...

He thumps his head on the table. He's doomed. Maybe if he wrote to her, that would make things easier. It'll take a while to figure out how to reach her without getting her in trouble. Good. He needs to exercise his brain a bit.

First, though, he's going to indulge his imagination a bit. He leans back, smiles. He thinks of the look on her face when she sees the first letter...

_Tell me_  
><em>Tell me that your sweet love hasn't died<em>

He's standing in front of her. Now she knows he loves her. And she knows what it took for him to say it. He can't keep himself from hoping...

What a miserable wretch he can be.

She's telling him to go away, he's too late. Smart woman. She shouldn't be with a man who used the fact that she loves him, shamelessly. He never had tried to apologize for all those times. And he could have. Every single time it happened he knows he could have made her forgive him, made her feel better. But he'd known she would forgive him on her own. So he hadn't helped her at all.

What a cad he was - is. He knows deserves every bit of pain he's feeling.

_And give me_  
><em>Give me one more chance<em>

She's sitting in front of him. He can't understand why. His cracked heart is swelling with hope again. Somehow this hurts worst of all. He's truly starting to understand for the first time how hope can kill you. Looking across at her, he marvels. How has she survived all the times he's dashed her hopes?

This woman is a saint. There is literally no reason for her to stay with him and not her wonderful, caring boyfriend.

He has no intention of complaining. He's had another chance to make things right and he's going to make sure it's the last one she gives him. He's not stupid enough to mess up this one, too.

He crosses his fingers under the table.

_To keep you satisfied_  
><em>I'll keep you satisfied<em>

He can so easily picture how they'll be as a couple...

"Where do you want to go on this unusual day off?"

"Ach, I don't mind."

A challenge. This means 'you better guess right.'

"Let's go to the beach."

She smiles. "Sure, but I am _not_ wearing a bikini."

They're sitting on the sand a few hours later. He has to admit she is drop dead gorgeous in her one-piece.

"You know, I really wouldn't have cared where we went."

He looks at her sharply. When did she get so good at reading him?

"Oh yes?"

"Mmmhmm. Long as I'm with you, I'm satisfied."

He smiles down at her. "Good to know. Let's go squaredancing next weekend!"

_Little things I should have said and done_  
><em>I just never took the time<em>

You make me happy.

I only thought of you.

Let's go to dinner.

You're the reason I didn't kill myself.

Your approval is the only one I care about.

I'm trying to change, trying to be the man you think I can be.

Thank you for being there for me.

I care more about you than any other person on this planet.

Please...

He'd been planning to say all these things. Really, he had. But now he's watching her laughing with another man. Kissing him too. If she'd just waited a little longer...

Hell is paved with good intentions.

James Boswell sure knew what he was talking about.

_But you were always on my mind_  
><em>You were always on my mind<em>

They're lying in bed. He thinks this is the closest to heaven he'll ever be.

He looks down at the angel in his arms. Why can't he shut off his brain for two minutes and forget everything he's done...

"Lisbon, all those things I did to you... I wish I hadn't had to."

"It's okay." She moves in to kiss him. He dodges her, quite a feat considering she's on top of him at the moment.

"No, I really need to say this. I did just about every terrible thing a man can do. I really don't know why you stuck with me. (That's a lie. He knows her personality too well. His _mind_ can understand, but his _heart_ is flabbergasted.) I don't deserve you."

She buries her head in his shoulder, suddenly shy. Maybe doing this after making love wasn't such a good idea.

"I didn't show you how I cared. Ever. But I need you to know that you were always on my mind. Even if I didn't show it - whenever I was happy or in trouble or scared, I was thinking of you."

She freezes. Her hands clench on his arms.

He wants to shoot himself then and there. Whenever he'd abandoned her or hurt her, he'd excused himself with that thought: But_ you're _the one I'm thinking of. _You're_ the one I care about (although I'll never say so).

As if that made everything better. For the first time, he realizes how pathetic it sounds. And how bad his rationalization was.

"Seriously?" She's incredulous.

He hates himself. Against all odds, he's managed to alienate her yet again.

He can't bring himself to speak, just nods dumbly. He actually can't tell what she's thinking. He's got a pretty good guess, though.

She's going to tell him that's the worst thing he's ever said to her. Oh no - he can tell she's about to cry. She's going to leave. Right now, in the middle of the night. How is he _ever_ going to get her to come back...

She lifts her head, crushes her lips against his. "Me too."

_You were always on my mind..._


	2. Desperado

**A/N: Well, another surprise sequel. Sorry. Planning has never been my strong suit. This is exactly like the first chapter in that the vignettes are wildly out of order.**

**I do not own Desperado by the Eagles.**

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><p>"You're too late, Jane." No, she wouldn't save him this time.<p>

But as she watched him get dragged off by airport security, actual _tears_ running down his cheeks, her mind flashed back to all the times she'd tried so hard to help him, but he'd never seemed to want it...

_Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?  
><em>_You been out ridin' fences for so long now _

Looking back, she had no idea when she'd first realized he didn't want anyone close to him. It didn't really bother her. She was the exact same way. Him trying to drag her secrets into the light, _that_ bothered her.

But she'd always been drawn to hopeless cases, as he so tactlessly pointed out the first day they met. It wasn't very long before she started to worry about how unhealthy his social life was. (Not understanding yet, that this would be a common refrain.) But she'd been a cop long enough to figure out that he didn't want any help, any commentary. She was fairly sure that would backfire in very unpleasant ways for her.

Well, she decided, she'd do what she could. The rest was up to him.

_Oh, you're a hard one  
><em>_I know that you got your reasons _

When he told her he was going to disconnect Bosco's morphine, the thing that hit her the hardest was that she understood his reasons. They made perfect sense. She could never have made that train of thought on her own, but she definitely saw where he was coming from. She couldn't help wondering if, were she in Bosco's place, she would want him to do that to her. Would she be unselfish enough to go through that pain?

So she stood there stupidly, just watching. And asking herself why she wasn't stopping him.

_These things that are pleasin' you  
><em> _Can hurt you somehow _

She ran out to the parking lot, throwing her jacket on hastily, cursing Jane soundly. Cho had just called. Jane had disappeared and Cho couldn't reach Adamson, their murder suspect, on the phone. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together and come up with four.

She scrambled into her car, running possible scenarios through her head. Knowing Jane, they would probably be at the scene of the crime. He had an inordinate fascination for those places. Like the proverbial bad penny, he nearly always turned back up at the spot where the murder had gone down. Usually on the wrong end of a gun. In her calmer moments, she would wonder why, but invariably decided that she didn't really want to know.

She screeched up at Adamson's mother's place and hit the ground running. The front door was open so she took that as an invitation to go right in. She was just in time to save Jane from a beating with a golf club. The instant he saw her he ran over and hid behind her.

"What took you so long?" he asked, gasping. She was too busy subduing Adamson to roll her eyes. Not that it would have done any good anyway. He loved running off by himself too much. The fact that it would get him killed one day wasn't something that she was ever going to get through his head.

_Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy  
><em> _She'll beat you if she's able  
><em>_You know the queen of hearts is always your best bet _

It was the worst feeling she'd ever had, finding out that he and Lorelei had slept together. She wasn't jealous, no matter what Jane said. That was just deflection.

No, she was worried. Worried because, for the first time that she knew about, he had made a very stupid move in his chase for Red John. Hadn't he learned before not to play games with a serial killer? There was no way, no way at all, that this was going to work out. Red John kept an iron leash on his women. Had Jane gone crazy, thinking _this_ one was going to give him up?

And she was worried because he wasn't trusting her anymore. She'd always been at least sort of in the loop on his Red John schemes before. Now he was doing this on his own, but he needed her help. _She_ could see that even if he couldn't. And unlike Lorelei, she actually wanted to help him. She actually cared about what happened to him.

Maybe she _was_ a little jealous of Lorelei. Not because she and Jane had slept together. Good heavens, no! But right now he was trusting Lorelei more than he trusted her. Lisbon knew that could never work.

And it was going to hurt him more than it was hurting her.

_Now it seems to me, some fine things _  
><em>Have been laid upon your table<br>__But you only want the ones that you can't get _

She knew instantly what had happened when she saw his pupils that morning. She dragged him into her office. "You took more of that belladonna, didn't you." It wasn't a question.

"Nope, just that one time." She was good enough at understanding Jane-speak to know he meant it wouldn't happen again. He stood there, hands in his pockets, coolly meeting her gaze, not denying, not defending. To any casual observer he was his perfectly normal self, ignoring her remonstrances, flaunting her authority. But there was an indefinable something, so tiny she couldn't even begin to say what it was, that made her think that it hadn't worked this time.

Maybe he hadn't seen his daughter again, or it had been nightmarish. Something had happened, and it wasn't something he was about to discuss. She looked at him helplessly.

"I'm going to go now," he said, turning and walking out.

She bent her head to her paperwork. It was a good thing she was used to hiding her pity, because it was all she was feeling. This man had people who cared about him, but he still only wanted the ones he'd lost so long ago.

That wasn't any way to live.

_Desperado, oh, you ain't gettin' no younger  
><em> _Your pain and your hunger, they're drivin' you home _

"But you would have Red John!"

She felt like all the breath had been driven out of her body. He'd never made it so obvious before that he didn't care what happened to him. She wanted to cry, but that would be very foolish, so she contented herself with giving him a dressing-down.

"And can't you see there's people who care about you, who need you?" She was too upset to realize she'd just given herself away. She wanted so much to make him see that it was just his pain talking that she let it slip that she needed him. Something she had barely admitted to herself.

But she knew nothing she could say would change the way he thought. Because, although she hated to think about it, deep down, he was _all_ pain. That was the only way he knew of operating.

_And freedom, oh, freedom  
>Well, that's just some people talkin' <em>  
><em>Your prison is walking through this world all alone <em>

It hurt when she saw him in prison in Texas, waiting for her. She was mad at him, of course, taking over her life, but she was more than a little sad when she saw his face. He was still in that prison of his own making, a box sheltering him from the world. She had no idea if he wanted it that way or if he was so used to it he didn't notice anymore.

But possibly the fact that he wanted her so much was a sign he was ready to let people in?

She shelved that thought after about two days. He was exactly the same as before. And it hurt that he didn't even realize the walls he had erected around himself. But she had given up trying to reach him now. She'd read a story once about some concentration camp victims. When they were let out, they were so scared of the outside world they were practically catatonic.

She had a sort of sinking feeling that that would happen to Jane if he stopped shutting himself off now.

_Don't your feet get cold in the wintertime? _  
><em>The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine<br>__It's hard to tell the nighttime from the day_

She watched him leave the CBI. She worried more about him when he went home to sleep than when he slept on the couch overnight. She knew about his sleeping conditions back home, and they weren't pretty.

She knew he went there whenever he thought he was getting a little too distracted from his 'quest'. Or, conversely, when he thought he was getting close. She wondered what it was like for him, living in a perpetual darkness of mind. She was fairly sure his mind had once been sunny, just like his smile. She had actually, on occasion, coaxed a genuine, warm smile out of him. She'd never been more proud of herself.

But he knew far too well how to bury happiness, how to hide from it. He never let her cheer him up to far.

_You're losin' all your highs and lows _  
><em>Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away? <em>

Jane sat in his booth on the island. He felt entirely lost. Nothing seemed to make any sense any more.

His tricks to amuse the children no longer cheered him up. He didn't solve crimes anymore. He didn't have anything to do.

Maybe he could write to Lisbon. He'd word the letters very carefully so that she wouldn't figure out that he didn't have anything else he felt like doing. He nodded to himself. Yes, there was something to do, something he would enjoy.

He tried not to think about how pathetic his life sounded.

_Desperado, why don't you come to your senses? _  
><em>Come down from your fences, open the gate<em>

She'd been so sure things would be different in Texas. She cursed her gullibility. Jane was still Jane, ready to take what she could give but never quite ready to give _her_ anything.

At least he no longer needed her, body and soul. She set her jaw. Maybe she could find love in another man, have someone else she ran to first for a change. Jane was going to get _her_ leftovers for once, instead of the other way 'round.

The man had never told her anything personal voluntarily unless he was trying to ensure her cooperation. That still hurt, late at night, when there was nothing else to think about. Even Marcus sleeping beside her couldn't distract her thoughts.

_It may be rainin'  
>But there's a rainbow above you <em>

She'd just gotten word from Bertram that the AG was waiting to hear from her. She rolled her eyes. So what else was new? She glared at Jane, lying on his couch. One of these days she was just going to throw him to the wolves. Maybe today was the day. Maybe today she wouldn't clean up his mess. Maybe today she would let him deal with his own fallout.

She glared at him for a full two minutes before giving up and picking up the phone. She spent the next half hour trying to twist his latest trick into something that was only vaguely illegal. All the while wondering exactly why she was going to bat for him once more.

She really hoped Jane knew how lucky he was to have her.

_You better let somebody love you  
>Let somebody love you<em>

She supposed she should have been upset that he'd deflected her question, especially since that deflection proved that he'd meant that 'I love you' romantically. (She'd been almost positive he'd only meant it platonically.)

But she wasn't. Upset, that is. She was sad. Sad that he didn't dare let anyone close to him. He'd pretended to forget because he didn't want her to love him. So she pretended to believe him, because it was no use admitting that she already loved him. All she could do was try not to let him hurt her.

He didn't want to be loved. But he didn't realize that wasn't his choice.

__You better let somebody love you  
>B<em>efore it's too late_

Just when she was about to leave. What a perfect time for him to get his act together.

She was extremely upset. Now, _now_, he'd finally figured himself out? Finally realized he was a human being? "It's too late, Jane." No, she wouldn't save him this time. Not now, when she was making it work perfectly well without him.

But as she watched him get dragged off by airport security, actual _tears_ running down his cheeks, her mind flashed back to all the times she'd tried so hard to help him, but he'd never seemed to want it...

Then, before she knew what she was doing, she was off the plane. It was useless trying to resist. He wanted her help. He wanted _her_. He _needed_ her. There was no way she could stay away.

Patrick Jane was in love with her. And he hadn't been too late after all.

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><p><strong>AN: I just had to include an obituary for The Listener - I just watched the series finale. Toby found his mom again! Becker, Michelle, and Oz live happily ever after! (Cue crocodile tears on my part and an uncomprehending silence on yours, given that you've never watched the show.) I just wanted to get that off my chest.**


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